


Another Chance: Business (As Usual?)

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Series: Another Chance (Pern/DCU fusion) [11]
Category: DCU (Comics), Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stakeholds of Southern really are determined to protect themselves and all of Pern, along with the dragonriders. </p><p>Sometimes that means you need a lawyer or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Chance: Business (As Usual?)

_year 18 AL/year 11 Pass_

The afternoon meeting of the Southern Conclave had broken out some details, seen arbitration on some issues between stakes, and generally helped put forth plans for meeting their now defined goals. Dinah and Slade were quite late getting free of the final question and answer session, between her news and the demand for his services.

Eventually, though, they did escape to their lodgings for the night, finding their son had opted to camp with Lian and the other kids out on the beach. That the camp was in the middle of the wallows made by the dragons was more than enough to reassure all of the parents. And the fire-lizards were content to stay among the children too, lending more safety to even Kovorich and his special needs.

"Slade?" Dinah asked softly, as she curled in his arms. "Today... that conversation about succession? I stand by what I said; I want the best person available to take over the lands and agronomy school. I think you do too for your school and center. But... we've never actually discussed where we stand on children, after Duncan."

"Mm," he murmured, nuzzling along her hair gently. "So we haven't. I love our son, and wouldn't mind a daughter -- or another son, whichever might happen -- at all, but I'm not..." he paused for a long moment, thinking, and shrugged one shoulder. "We're both so terribly busy -- and yes, I know we were with Duncan, too, but it wasn't quite the same, then. 

"What do you think? You'd be the one doing all the work of it..." 

She chuckled at that, pushing into his hold a bit more. "Maybe during the pregnancy and the first year or so, but you had D in a pack more than I did after that." She remembered the sight of that, Duncan in hearing-protection, tucked into a special carry-all for Slade to keep close during his work day. Yes, they had sometimes had to park their baby with a sitter, but both of them had preferred to just expose their son to the work ethic they shared. 

She then shook her own head. "I'd be okay with just going off protection again, and letting it fall to chance, like we did to get Duncan. If it doesn't happen, it doesn't." She missed her daughter even now, so many years later, and a part of her heart wanted a second chance to have one, but she was so focused on making the planet help them survive.

Slade nodded, pressing a light kiss to her hair, cuddling her in closer -- able to tell, either just from her body language, their long companionship, or some residual link through Hope and Major, that she was aching for her losses. "That suits me, love. Let chance take over, and see?" 

"Alright." She grew quiet for a bit, then rolled over to face him in the dim light of the room. "How in the universe did you and I wind up at the center of one of the most necessary stakes in the South?" she asked him. There were several stakes that were vital, yes, but theirs? It provided a central point of communication, food for both continents, and vital infrastructure needs.

He thought about that for a moment, two, then snorted. "Because we're too stubborn to give in or be moved, rather by space-borne menaces or idjit admirals, love." That set her to laughing, old pains and worries for the future melting away in the face of what was absolute truth.

+++++

Between the various administrative decisions of the Conclave, and then the need to get the autumnal harvests in, not a lot of work beyond the planning stages had happened until the early winter. Dana Sejby was nominated as their candidate to go speak to Admin directly, before the recruiting phase began. The hope was to recruit through the Southern winter, and bring the new people back in time for the spring. Dana had originally been asked to manage a Northern trade fleet/school, but she had preferred to remain active on the Southern side of the waters, refusing to let her husband's loss and all the events since drive her from the harbor she had chosen to anchor in.

So with her ship safely docked under the rock, she went up with the cargo to the Fort complex and sought out the offices of... who was managing things now? She'd heard that most of the administrators of Landing had curtailed heavy involvement in day-to-day affairs following the Fever Year, even if they still held the wheel in name. Would it be better to seek out Boll, or to find out who was handling the routine affairs this season?

She entered the main cavern -- not that it looked much like one now, with all the work that had been done. It was teeming with people, and her nose wrinkled somewhat. If the Admin settlers didn't start moving out, they were going to invite another round of the fevers. Even on a tight-packed ship, the smell of humanity was never this omnipresent. Dana shook it off; she was just more used to the Southern sprawl and clean sea-air. Her eyes cast around until she found the signs that guided up to the administrative levels and headed that way. She'd decide who was the best to speak to based on who she found.

To her great surprise, she found Paul Benden himself sitting behind the main desk. He looked up at her, smiling a welcome. "Dana, hello. What brings you up into Admin? Did you have a decent trip up?" 

"Good trip, routed around both Falls that were in the way," she said, shaking her head. "Sailing from one tip of one continent to a cove on the opposite side of the world in both directions makes for a long sail, but it also meant I brought up a bit more diverse an offering of raw materials." She phrased it that way, instead of 'cargo', to edge toward the purpose of her visit. "I'm sure you've noticed each of the shipmasters has been taking on more personnel to go South on each of the runs up here, Adm… Paul."

"I had," he agreed, waving a hand at the nearest chair for her, "and I'll admit, I've been both curious and grateful. Most of our Fort population, I thought, would live out their days here, but now a few more leave with every ship. Come to untangle the mystery for me?" 

"Aye, and to broaden our search, actually," Dana said, settling so she faced him fully. "Simply put, last -- no, it was the one last year, as we had smaller, regional ones this year -- conclave of the stakeholders in the South, we started defining how we'd go forward. And it came up that we really lacked for certain necessary skills and trades down there." She paused, knowing that if he'd seen the pattern, he'd pick up on the fact the South had been filling craft-goods needs with their recruitments.

She could see Paul blink, his head tilting, and he asked after a few moments, "Which trades? And... last year's conclave? That's been a while. Why only come talk to Admin now, if you found a problem or concern?" 

"Until now, we've still been hammering out the details, and trying our damnedest to get in a solid year of production," Dana told him. "To ease any concerns, and as a show of solidarity with all of you. Because we've mostly been offering places to younger scions of the families that have already begun training in the skill we need, but we're finding a few that we would like to invite that might make waves." She gave a small smile for her analogy to him.

"We are in desperate need of one of the people working on writing replacements, for instance, and I know there's only a handful that have revived that trade," she offered as an example.

Paul blinked, cocking his head at her. "There are only a few, it's true, but I can't think of any reason that would make waves, Dana, if you can find someone that wants to go... What's wrong?" 

"That's just the tip of the iceberg, Paul," she told him. "We also need a legist, as every stakehold has worked out different succession policies that need to be vetted, and there are issues that are needing to be formalized between the stakes. We have tanners now, at least, but we haven't had much luck actually recruiting a true saddler." She thought he'd start getting the broader picture, the reason she'd been sent to make this courtesy call, because the three people and the formalization of stakeholding policies should show how serious the Southern Continent was about independent living. "And if you have any suggestion on who Pierre could part with for culinary arts, we'd appreciate it."

He blinked at her, cocking his head slightly, his eyes thoughtful, quiet and tapping his fingers against the desk, his head tilting at her. Then she saw something cross his features, and he stared at her, indignant. "Dana, what in the dickens has gotten into the lot of you, that you think we'd have any problem with the South settling yourselves more securely? How many times do we have to say we're behind you?!" 

Dana shook her head at that assumption. "Not you, Admiral Benden," she stated, formally, just as Jim had coached her. She needed Paul thinking critically, about how everything had gone so far. "But just as sailors were blamed, to a degree, for the Fever spread, and given the way people jump at shadows, we want Admin to understand our position clearly. Currently, we provide about seventy-five percent of the raw materials consumed up here. But that will change, eventually. Yet, we, in the south, are ill-equipped for truly independent stakes, because of our lack of full industrial pursuits."

She shifted her position in the chair, more upright in it. "There will be people who fear we are trying to cut off their access to food and materials, if they start seeing what we are intending. Because people panic. And that is not what our stakeholders intend at all; we see a potential for abuse, generations down the road, that must be minimized."

He was quiet for a bit, again, his fingers tapping on his desk again, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought, and then he nodded. "People _do_ panic," he agreed, "you're not wrong about that. We've seen it often enough. But what abuse?"

//Does this man know nothing of history?// Dana kept the thought off her face. "Sir, are you familiar with the situation Iota Aurigae faced even before the Nathi War?" she asked neutrally.

"I've heard all of the awful rumors from _during_ the war, of course, and I remember Wilson being flatly livid at some of the FSP policies that went into place -- it's one of the reasons we got he and his boys, they wanted out of the mess there -- after, but... before? No. I remember hearing something about trade deficits, in some of the admiralty meetings, but no, I have to admit I'm not. I take it I should be." 

Dana sighed. "Iota was a producer of raw material. Wealthy, everyone thought, except all that wealth was in the consortiums. Sadly, it wasn't the most arable planet, so most food had to be imported, and of course the consortiums didn't need to help with the cost more than enough to keep the work force able to perform their tasks." She was utterly disgusted by this. "I have been soundly educated that Iota is merely a reproduction of colonial tactics all the way back to the Age of Religions. And that the only way to insure we never fall prey to such imbalance is to promote 'cottage-industry' in each stakehold, North and South, in addition to the raising of crops and herds." 

She then wryly grinned. "Or fishing for them, in my case and that of the other sea-bound holdings."

"Soundly educated, hm?" Paul asked, his mouth quirking slightly. "Well, that sort of thing is the last thing I want to see happen, or to envision ever happening here at all... so if you're seeing solutions to it before it comes, all the better. All right. What do you need from us in Admin, both to quell any possible panic, and to make things the smoothest for you?" 

"Encouragement to the candidates we need, that they may go with us without costing them any goodwill here. Sharing a vision of resurrecting craftings in fiber and wood and such among all those who eventually move out, so they understand that every stakehold needs to meet its own need for basic goods. Fostering competition and trade among those, as the years go forward, to encourage the crafts to develop full techniques." Dana ticked the points off on her fingertips as she spoke. 

By the time she took a breath, Paul had reached for a clipboard, pen, and a piece of plas, his fingers making quick notes to himself as she spoke. 

"Jim also suggested that you might want to have a Conclave system in place from the get-go, once folks move to their own spreads." She smiled. "And thanks you for the use of Boca. We're setting it up as a permanent free-trade center, and a site to hold a full Continental meeting every five years or so. In between those meetings, we've settled into smaller regional ones, with any large decisions being passed through Omaha to the rest.

"We'll gladly accept back any persons reaching majority that have skills needed, or merely seek to prove their own stakes, though passage back, should it prove too much, will be on a space-available basis," she added, remembering that provision. "Any adult at the time of the Crossing who wishes to return to the South can request to, but it will have to be on a 'space available/skill needed' basis. We know the kids didn't have a choice, but the adults did… and we can't keep running them back and forth, if they think we've magically made that land more stable or easy to survive on, just to find that no, it's not."

They'd had some Thread-related fatalities since the evacuation efforts, more than the North, just because there were fewer places to shelter if the pattern of Fall shifted, as it had a few times. And there was a solid distrust of the unstable volcanic regions, with some fallout due to earthquakes in the surrounding areas.

"That notion of a Conclave system up here... it's a good one, especially with Red and Zi both planning to move out into new stakes soon. We kind of cover most of it in Admin meetings right now, but after they go..." he nodded slowly. "I don't entirely know what I think of the 'as-needed' proviso... but then again, I'm not the one that has to live with them down there if they didn't work out, either!" 

That last was somewhat hasty, and she realized she must have been giving him quite a look. 

Dana nodded, letting the sadness come into her eyes. "We've lost a few, Paul. Even with all precautions, with the predictive tables we use… Thread is gravity driven, which means it falls prey to the same things that affect tides. And just a few degrees off, or an hour early? Makes a hard life down there. It's why we're being a little harsh on our selection process.

"On the other hand," she added, more upbeat. "We're starting to prod how to turn work-credits into something like a working non-profit trade system. Basically the really ancient manner of a bushel of grain equals half a barrel of fish equals two wherhides or one cowhide," she told him. "That's what the full Conclave came up with, and the regional stakes have hammered out through conference calls. Supply and demand will see a fluctuation, but it is revisited every five years."

Paul blinked at her, but then he smiled, wry and affectionate. "That... sounds pretty wise, really. Value given for goods, or work, or... whatever. But keeping it mostly to goods should keep a lot of the things we were running from from happening again here. 

"And I'm sorry for the losses." 

Dana nodded, accepting the sympathy for the situation. "We needed some measurement for value, as each stakehold seems to be bent on diversifying its products to avoid direct competition." That was leading to some interesting gatherings, showing off both the successes and the failures in techniques involving fibers and reeds and dyeing.

"Oh?" Paul sounded honestly curious, more than anything else, his eyes bright with interest. Dana settled in to discuss each of the stakes and what they were crafting, as well as some of the funnier stories surrounding discoveries made so far.

++++

Cabot looked over the briefs that Dana had brought with her, shaking his head a few times, then finally sat back. "No two stakeholds with the exact same methodology of selecting heirs or … managers." He shrugged. "But not a one of them contradicts the concepts laid out in the charter."

"That's what we thought, but honestly, Cabot? Everyone will sit better to have a legist down there to maintain such documents and to be an impartial arbiter when these rules start coming into play," Dana told him. "Do you have anyone that might be willing to relocate down there? Preferably young and not adverse to danger, though we'd probably install the person at Boca, which has a fairly transient but talented population."

Cabot hummed thoughtfully, his eyes distant for a few seconds, before he nodded. "I think I know just the young person for you, Dana. Ze's quite talented, well-taught, and, honestly, very bored. I believe Riley's out with one of the hunting parties today, but I'll send Amigo after hir." 

"Sounds good to me, and I'm in no rush. I've got a course mapped for before next Fall and another mapped for the leaving after it," Dana told him. "I've a few others to talk to, in hopes of getting a few more skills for Caesar and Wade, so I will be around."

Cabot nodded, giving her a quick smile as he wrote a note and a brown fire-lizard popped in at the corner of the desk. "All right, Dana. I'll get Riley back here, and introduce the two of you."

Dana saw herself out, curious as to where to find the next candidate they needed, and confident they would get a good legist out of all of this.

++++

Dana, and the Southern stakeholders she spoke for, proved correct shortly after the _Bayonne_ pulled back out to sea. The gaps in certain skilled sectors were quickly noticed, as Dana had adeptly recruited some of the best up-and-comers, those very people the technical trades relied on to get projects complete. They were not lacking for other people, but the holes in the rosters made some people talk.

Rather than let the furor build, Paul and Emily held a general meeting the next Rest Day that didn't match up with a Thread day.

"Yes, the stakeholders in the south are setting up for more independent living," he said, once Cabot had opened the meeting to the admin team. "Just as we, here in the north, will need to have an eye toward diversity in each stake we open. Right now, we've got the fabricators, so a lot of the technicians are with us. What the stakeholders down there are doing is setting up for generational continuity as our limited industrial heritage is exhausted."

Emily took up the speech from there, on a slight head nod from Paul. "The dragons are prolific, and we are scouting out many cave systems on this continent. That our food producers are looking toward a future where all stakes can resume more autonomy is an example we should take to heart, rather than mutter and worry over."

"But will they still send us food enough?" came a call from the thick of the crowd. "Hydroponics only go so far, and too much of the beef winds up in dragon bellies up here!"

Red Hanrahan started to spout off on that, but Mairi patted his arm, shaking her head. They had their own plans, and the herds were not going to continue to be his problem, not once he had moved on to start his horse breeding in earnest. Wherry suited their family as a meat supply.

"None of the food producers of the southern continent will shirk their duty to all of Pern!" Paul said, to put a blunt end on that. "But for all they send, and we gratefully eat, how many goods have actually gone south to make their lives easier, when we took all but the metal fabrication machines?" he challenged.

There was a shuffling at that, people looking away from him and at each other, and he was glad to see that most of the looks were abashed. They truly had brought good people with them -- but people _were_ people, and would have their moments of foolishness. 

"Not much," Joel Lilienkamp called to him from off to one side, drawing eyes and even more unsettled looks. "Not much at all, really." 

"Well what are we making anyway?" a woman he didn't know called, her voice half sharp, half querulous, "that they've talked barely more than children into leaving where it's safe?" 

Emily looked at the woman, and wanted to shake her a bit; this colony's spirit was tempered in survival, through war and siege alike. "We have all of the plasfilm capability here. We have the fabricators to take raw goods and make clothing. We can make partitions and building materials more easily because of the fabricators here, brought because we intended to start establishing stakeholds up here, while they are mostly repurposing the ones we left behind!"

Paul let his gaze travel over every member he could make eye contact with, letting his sobriety in this moment settle in. "Ma'am? You speak of 'barely more than children', and yet there is not a person in this room, on this planet, that doesn't owe their ability to be alive to that exact age group! Or have you forgotten how young the first riders were, who have braved Thread constantly, to protect us? Is it so odd that some of the newest young ones would want to contribute, in some way, to helping the future we all crave? 

"For every industry they can successfully puzzle out, down there, without fabricator assistance, we here in the north gain! Because they share their knowledge with us as much as they feed us! Telgar learns from Drake, Radamath learns from Lance, and so on! We need their innovation, to free us up to start focusing on how we are going to tame this continent to our needs. So say thank you to your kin-person who went south, when they send word, because they are probably paving your future."

She glared up at him, her eyes widening (in surprise or anger, he couldn't tell), but all around her people were nodding, settling down more, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. Another woman wrapped an arm around her, hugging her in and murmuring soothingly, and he looked out over the rest of the crowd again. "Other questions, my friends?" 

While there were some murmurs, no one really wanted to come to the forefront. Also, the simple announcements and answers given had cast the recruitments in a light that made more sense. There were also, or so Emily thought as she looked around, a few more people beginning to realize that the admin complex here was not meant to be their end goal for life. She was betting Zi and Red had a few more discreet inquiries before they finalized their plans.

++++

Kate shaded her eyes against the sun as the _Bayonne_ was coasting in at Boca. She'd been told over the comms that the new legist would be arriving, and that would make Kate Spencer's life much easier. Her calling, before the war, had been in criminal law, not estate and trade litigations. She'd come to Pern to start over, after growing sickened by the lawsuits her friends were handling, for profit, after the war. That she'd helped handle one war crime trial was something she preferred to put far from her mind.

When Boca had been proposed as a trade center, and a central place to establish advanced training schools, it had made sense to start moving some of the more specialized people there to keep it up between festivals and conclaves and trading meets. Kate had offered to help administer it, as her stakehold had been relatively small… and empty. She'd just never found the right person to share it with, even though she knew she didn't want to go north.

Now, with one of Cabot's own people coming back, Kate intended to make herself useful. She was going to learn, and while she learned, she'd keep Boca organized for its new use.

The docking crew moved quick and smoothly easy, as soon as they were near, getting tied off and the docking ramp into place, and she jogged closer. Dana Sejby was there first, with several -- young, so much younger than her own face in the mirror was now -- people behind her. Men and women both, of course, and she waved up at Dana. 

"Hello, Kate!" Dana called, halfway down the docking ramp, "good to see you! Everyone, this is Kate Spencer, she's taken over running Boca now that we've repurposed it. And I know who you want most to meet, Kate, so we'll get that introduction in first. Kate, meet Riley Blake, ze's the legist Cabot talk -- " 

The person next to Dana snorted, shaking hir head in amusement, short dark-blond hair tossing, and as Dana paused, ze said drily, "It didn't take talking me into." 

"Choice or persuaded, I'm just happy to see you," Kate said with a smile. "I've been doing a lot of 'I think that's okay' at the stakeholders, but my focus was criminal law. I hope you don't mind retraining me, in my spare time, so I can lend a hand?" She then gave Dana a quick nod. "Thank you, so much, Dana. We've got a stack of messages for you at the main house; I'm to tell you that Jim Tillek says 'go home' first before tackling any shipping requests."

Dana snorted, amused. "As though I wouldn't. Thank you though, Kate, and I'll come go through the messages now, while I'm still awake." 

Riley shrugged one shoulder, hir eyes roughly level with Kate's own, and answered, "I don't mind at all -- I'm glad to know there's someone here to catch me up on things, honestly. Pleased to meet you, too."

Ze had a quick, firm grip, and Kate grinned back at hir, relieved. And Riley seemed to be at least a bit older than some of the young people already making for the main house and the shade, thank goodness. "Want to get out of the sun?" she asked, and Riley shook hir head. "No, it feels wonderful. We lived on the Sadrid coast before the Crossing, and it's wonderful to be home again!" 

Kate nodded. "I just... I couldn't go shut up in rock, not when they said some would stay," she told hir. "I've drifted, lending a hand here and there, on each of the stakes but then they wanted to use Boca as permanently neutral territory, and managing it seemed something I could do. I'm not as talented with other survival skills so in demand, after all."

"I'm sure yours are better than mine," Riley said with a laugh as they stepped out of the way of the crew moving things off the ship, "as long as we've been up at Fort. Thankfully, that's not why I'm wanted down here, right?" 

Kate laughed with hir, and shook her own head. "No, you're here to help vet the wills, the contracts for stakehold managers, and maintain the documents in some manner for perpetuity, while also arbitrating when Caesar's herds overrun Gyorgy's lands," she answered cheerfully. "Ready for that?"

"I'd better be," Riley replied, wry, "since I'm who you've got. ...wait, are those two _still_ at it like that?" 

"Not quite as bad, but the stock drives sometimes make conflict," she answered that. "We've also got to help tie up the niggling details on the construction crew hosting and supplying, so that Wilson doesn't have so many headaches… or won't, in the future. That's the thing, Riley, that made me ask them to find someone with a more civil slant on law. They want to tie things up to make precedents to help keep the goodwill and unity they have now for three generations down the road. And more. Because while the Charter is the ultimate law… it's very vague and too broad to protect people from idiocy once this stuff tapers off in another few decades. Not to mention to make sure it's not a crisis all over again when the stuff comes back two hundred years after that!"

Kate simmered down, covering her mouth as she realized how passionately she'd stated her case, and looked at Riley apologetically. "Sorry. I have listened to the central stakeholders far too often to be unbiased, I guess."

"No, no," Riley shook hir head, reaching to squeeze her hand again. "I'm glad to hear it, that tells me a lot about what I'm here for. And I happen to agree that we need long-term procedures and solutions put into at least precedent, if not new laws, because none of you that wrote the Charter were expecting Thread!" 

"We certainly weren't," Kate agreed. "So, welcome to Boca, trade center of the South, home to the Grand Conclave every five years, and neutral territory to all," she summed up. "We've got a small staff to help keep things up… but don't be surprised at the random arrivals of goods and people because three stakes want to meet and swap a bit."

"That honestly sounds wonderful," Riley replied, grinning, then ducked out of the way of an exceptionally unwieldy bundle. "Especially after so long at Fort, with _everyone_ there all the time. I'm glad to be here." 

"Then we'll get on just fine, Riley."

+++


End file.
